(The Guitar Man)
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Daddy Frank played the guitar and the french harp,
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Sister played the ringing tambourine.
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Mama couldn't hear our pretty music,
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She read our lips and helped the family sing.
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That little band was all a part of living,
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And our only means of living at the time;
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And it wasn't like no normal family combo,
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Cause Daddy Frank the guitar man was blind.
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Frank and mama counted on each other;
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Their one and only weakness made them strong.
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Mama did the driving for the family,
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And Frank made a living with a song.
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Home was just a camp along the highway;
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A pick-up bed was where we bedded down.
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Don't ever once remember going hungry,
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But I remember mama cooking on the ground.
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Don't remember how they got acquainted;
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I can't recall just how it came to be.
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There had to be some special help from someone,
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And blessed be the one that let it be.
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Fever caused my mama's loss of hearing.
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Daddy Frank was born without his sight.
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And mama needed someone she could lean on,
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And I believe the guitar man was right.
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Daddy Frank played the guitar and the french harp,
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Sister played the ringing tambourine.
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Mama couldn't hear our pretty music,
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She read our lips and helped the family sing.
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